


Best Mistake

by devylish



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M, Female Character of Color
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-10
Updated: 2012-06-10
Packaged: 2017-11-07 10:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devylish/pseuds/devylish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever mistakenly done something you knew you shouldn't do. With someone you knew you shouldn't do it with? Ever found that something to be the best mistake of your life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Infected

Cracking open two bottles of water, he reached into his wallet and pulled out two small packets of extra strength Tylenol.

Opening one packet, he climbed back into the bed, pulling the sheet over his hips. Throwing the pills in his mouth he swallowed them then took a swig of water. Shuddering as a wave of pain hit his head again, he looked over at the woman lying next to him in the bed.

_Mistake. Big mistake._

_Tequila and Torres were now on his 'no' list._

She shifted in the bed with a moan. A sound that triggered faint memories in his mind… and triggered a twinge in his cock.

Another moan, another shift, and she opened one eye. Taking in a half naked torso - covered with a sheet - Callie screwed her eyes shut. 

Her head hurt. The room was too bright, and apparently, she'd gone to bed with 'someone' last night. _Fuck._ She tried to dig through the cotton candy fuzz that filled her skull. Tried to recall what idiocy she'd done, with whom, last night.

And then the owner of the body sitting next to her – naked – in bed, spoke. "I have some water and a couple of Tylenols if you're in the same kind of pain I'm in.

_Shepherd?_

_Derek Shepherd was naked in bed next to her?_

_Mistake. Big mistake._

With a groan she squinted her eyes at him, "Can you turn off the light?"

"That light you want me to turn off is the sun."

"Fuck."

"You can say that again." He watched her shift in the bed, bits and pieces of her tan flesh coming into view as she sat up so that she was against the headboard like he was.

"You mentioned water and meds?" She had her eyes closed, her hand extended.

Opening the pill packet for her he dumped the two pills in her hand, and after she popped them in her mouth, he handed her the water.

Gulping the liquid down, Callie sighed. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye she tucked the sheet a little higher on her chest. "So this is what I'd call awkward."

"Look. We both know last night was stupid. A stupid mistake. But, we can still be friends. Handle this like adults. Right?"

"Right." A memory flashed through her head. "A hot, wow, stupid mistake."

"Definitely a hot wow." He slunk a little lower against the headboard, letting his eyes fall shut.

"But a mistake."

"Mmm hmmm."

"As long as we agree."

They sat in silence, waiting for the medication to kick in.

(())

Nothing really changed between them after that.

Maybe she laughed at his jokes a little more. _He was a funny man. Right?_

Maybe he sat in the stadium watching her surgeries more often than normal – _he was just taking a break. Right?_

So yeah, nothing really changed between them.

(())

"What're you drinking?" Derek sat down next to Callie at the bar.

"Scotch."

"No more tequila?"

Callie shivered slightly. "Tequila = bad."

Derek nodded to the bartender, "Tanqueray and Tonic."

"I see I'm not the only one steering away from the 'bad' stuff."

"To quote a wise woman: 'Tequila = bad.'"

They sat in silence while he waited for his drink, both of them facing the bar, watching the mirror, the people reflected behind them, the people seated in the booths. Anything but one another.

"So how many of those have you had?" He nods his head in the direction of her scotch.

"One… this one."

They fell back in to silence.

He tapped his fingers on his glass nervously… thoughts running through his head. Bad thoughts.

"So how have you been?" _Great lead in Shepherd… not that you really want a lead in. Because you're not thinking – at all- about doing something bad._

She didn't move her head, but she glanced at his reflection in the mirror _. Tortured by half memories of our night together? Horny? So many answers!_ "Good. Good."

"No – aftereffects from our little… uhm…?"

She locked eyes with him in the mirror. "Aftereffects? Such as?"

"Regrets?"

A shot of energy hit her center. "No. No regrets."

Pasting a smile on his face, he slowly swirled the ice in his glass. "The worst part of the whole … event … is that I can't even remember all of it. It kind of sucks to know you did something wrong and not to be able to recall what you did."

She looked away from his reflection. "I thought I was the only one suffering from half memories."

More silence.

_Well this is getting me nowhere._ Callie took one last sip of her scotch before putting the glass down and pushing it away.

"Leaving?"

"Yeah… big plans for the night; I have to hurry home and vacuum. And then I have a load of laundry to do."

He reached into his pocket and dropped enough cash on the counter for both of their drinks before standing up and throwing back the last of his gin and tonic.

Callie stood up slowly, eyeing him. "I take it you're leaving too?"

"I'm a gentleman Torres; I'm walking you out to your car."

Picking up her satche,l she moved to the door, silently wishing he'd leave her alone. One stool was too close. One stool and one drink was _way_ too close. And now he had to throw being a gentleman on top of it.

.

.

.

Or not…

They'd walked a few feet away from the bar entrance when he asked, "So you're sober, right?"

She snorted and turned to him, "After just one drink? Pfft, I could –"

He cut her off with a kiss; one of his hands at her jaw, the other at her waist, holding her close.

She was holding on to the front of his shirt when he pulled his lips away; holding on so that she didn't fall down… and so that he wouldn't go away.

"I'd like to know exactly what we did last time. The half-memories are… killing me." He brushed his lips against hers again. "We can still add this to our list of mistakes. And never do it again, but, I hate knowing/and not knowing at the same time."

"Irritating huh?"

"Itch you can't scratch." He paused, "only, we could kind of scratch this itch. Take care of the need to know, and then be done with it."

Callie looked up at him for a few seconds, and with a barely visible swallow of concern, she moved her hands along his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles her grasping fingers had made. Studying her hands so that she didn't have to look in his eyes, she responded. "I suppose if we're just doing it so that we're not being tormented by questions of 'what did we do?'."

"Right. Exactly. We'll know what we've done and then we can put it behind us, not have it hanging over our heads."

"Right."

"Right."

"And where …?"

"The Trent is a few blocks away."

"Fancy, Dr. Shepherd."

"Well if we're going to remember this," he grabbed her hand and led the way down the street, "We might as well remember it with 1000 thread-count sheets."

"Okay, the fact that you know about thread-counts, freaks me out a bit."

"So you're saying I shouldn't tell you that I know how to cook either, huh?"

She groaned. Maybe her half-memories of that night WERE manufactured memories. Maybe he was too metro sexual for her. _Crap._

They came to a stop in front of The Trent, and Callie pulled back from him ever so slightly. "Are you sure we want to do this?" She asked, the wrongness, the thread-counts, the sheer Shepherdness of the situation hitting her full force.

He pulled her back to him, their joined hands caught between their bodies, and he kissed her again.

And the man knew how to kiss.

Senseless, breathtaking, overwhelming kisses.

Pulling away so that they could go into the hotel, he grinned at her dazed face - eyes shut, mouth parted slightly - "We're going in Torres."

_So maybe knowing about thread-counts didn't mean anything about his manliness…_

(())

"We'd like a room." Derek was at the front desk, Callie pressed against his back, peering over his shoulder at the deskman.

"For how many people, sir?"

"Two."

"And your luggage, sir?"

"No luggage."

The deskman frowned and glanced at Callie's face. She ducked her head behind Derek's neck and proceeded to blush.

The concierge cleared his throat, "I'm sorry sir, but The Trent does not rent rooms by the hour."

"I want a room for the night," Derek clarified. He pulled out his black amex, and a wad of cash. "I'll pay double the usual night's rate."

_He thinks I'm a whore. He thinks I'm a certified whore. And that Derek's my john. And who the fuck would have thought I'd ever be in a situation where anyone would be able to think those things!_

The deskman sniffed slightly, before pinching the cash and the amex off of the counter. Silently processing the room request he handed Derek the key card and offered an austere: "room 6 – 234."

"Thanks."

Leading a still blushing Callie to the elevator, Derek pressed the button for the sixth floor then turned to Callie and walked her into the corner of the elevator, pressing her against the wall. "Ready to make a mistake?"

(())

She woke up with a smile on her face. A big smile; because, this time, she remembered everything that led up to her being in bed – naked – with one: Derek Shepherd.

Her smile faltered a bit. It was still wrong. They were still about as compatible as oil and water, but….

His head was on her chest, his hair a riot of curls and waves, and she wanted to run her fingers through the strands… tame them. Can friends who've made a mistake, touch one another's hair? Or was that going too far? 

She was saved from making a decision by his stretching; his stubbled jaw rubbing against her breast and sending sparks of pure energy through her veins. As he slowly woke up he lifted his head and they made eye contact.

_She was beautiful in the morning. Hair spilled out on the pillow, her lips full and beckoning. Beautiful._ He gave her a sleepy smile.

_He was adorable in the morning, little boy, puppy dog, sleepy, adorable._ She smiled back.

Lowering his head back to her breast he yawned and spoke, "Knowing is definitely better."

Callie gave a low laugh and lifted her hand to his hair. "Definitely better."

They had breakfast, coffee, showers, and parted ways. Agreeing, once again, that 'it'…'this'… 'they'... were still a mistake; a brilliant delicious, hot mistake, but a mistake none the less.

They parted ways, satiated and more or less content with the knowledge that their one of - or two of - a kind, mistake would never happen again…. Now that they knew exactly what they'd done.

(())

He nodded and smiled at her from his spot across the conference room.

Nodding and smiling back at him, Callie squeezed past a couple of the head nurses, and moving to the side of the room closest to the windows, she clambered into the chair that Mark had saved for her.

"You're late."

"Yeah well, so is Richard so…."

"All right folks," Chief Weber pushed into the room heading to the spot left open for him at the head of the table. "Let's get this meeting started and finished."

Callie listened to the weekly round up with half an ear as she doodled on the agenda sheet with her pen. Her mind was lost in the same thing it had been lost in for the past week. Thoughts of Derek Shepherd and how he could kiss her senseless. How his hands seemed to be made for touching… touching her skin, her body. How he gave her the most intense org—

"Planning on staying here?" Mark's voice interrupted her very inappropriate thoughts and she shook her head and looked up at him.

He and everyone else in the conference room were standing up and clearing out of the room. She'd just zoned out for fifteen minutes. Zoned out for fifteen minutes on thoughts of Derek Shepherd. Jesus, she had it bad. 

Pushing away from the table, Callie gathered her papers and offered a tense smile to Mark. "I was just lost in the depths of our exciting meeting."

"Uh huh." Mark followed her out of the room. "So who's the girl?"

She looked up at him in confusion.

"C'mon Torres. We're buds. I know you… I know you get stupid when you're interested in someone. Who's the lucky blonde? Or have you moved on to red heads?"

Callie blinked then broke into a laugh. "Uh… actually I'm 'interested' in a brunette this time." _A brunette with a penis. A lovely, lovely -._

"Moving up in the world I see."

"Being one myself, I should have realized from the start that brunettes are the best."

Mark tilted his chin up, and thought for a second, "Well now that you mention it… that's been my experience too."

"Your vast… vast… vast experience."

"You missed a 'vast'."

"I was being polite." Seeing Derek down the hall, Callie turned to Mark and making a hurried half-ass excuse, she ducked down a side hall.

Slipping into an empty patient room she took a deep breath. And then another one. _Okay, so this isn't working. This whole… sleep with him once - once that you remember – so you know what it was like thing? NOT working._ Apparently Derek was addictive. Like a drug addictive.

She paused for a second. _Okay, don't be melodramatic Torres. He's just a man. A man with major bedroom skills, but just a man. You… you just need to get him out of your system._ She thought about going to Alex… or Mark… and having an oncall room session. But, Alex had just started something with Yang, and she didn't think Cristina was the sharing type. And Mark? Mark had finally found a girl almost as great as she was; it would be a shame to try and break him when he finally had something good.

So no Sloan, no Karev…. Looks like she might have to go back to the source to get a fix.


	2. Cured

Callie waited patiently for the locker room to empty. Doctors, obviously, worked all kinds of shifts, so finding the right time, the perfect time, required all of her patience. But she was a woman on a mission.

Finally, the room was temporarily empty, and she quickly reached into her rucksack and pulled out her supplies. Opening Derek's locker - using some of the skills she'd picked up from her brother Edmundo, she shifted items around in his locker, then setting her supplies and her plan in place, Callie shut the locker door, took a deep breath and grabbed her coat and headed home.

(())

"How do you get to kick me out of my own apartment?"

"Skills? I'm stronger than you? I need to get laid? Take your pick."

"Pfft! Skills my ass! And my slight figure hides speed and surprisingly wiry muscles." Yang paused, looked Callie up and down… "You do need to get laid though. You don't look as bad as you did a month ago, but… HEY! You've been getting some! Who have you been tappin'!"

Callie turned her back to Yang and continued to fill the refrigerator with her purchases. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Calliope….." Yang shifted so that she could watch Callie's profile.

"Don't call me that."

"Don't lie to me."

Callie shut the refrigerator, and moved to the cabinets. "I have to lie to you, you can't keep a secret."

"So you haaaavve been getting some from someone. Whoooo?"

"Not telling."

"Same someone who you're having over tomorrow night?"

"…yes."

"Male or female?"

"Go ahead and ask your twenty questions, you'll never figure it out." She quietly added, "I can't even figure it out."

"I'm going to guess male. You wouldn't hide a girl from me. Unless it was Bailey. And Bailey definitely doesn't swing your way." She pouted and headed into the living room. "Boys. Boys. Who could it be?"

Callie called out after her, "So you'll disappear tomorrow night?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah!"

A few moments of silence went by before Yang yelled back into the kitchen. "It's not Hunt is it?" He and Yang had broken up a few months ago; their intense, heated, constantly bubbling over affair, crashing and burning in a spectacular fashion. A spectacular fashion that they had somehow managed to recover from and, better yet, somehow how managed to remain friends after. Charcoally, crispy, burnt friends..., but friends none the less.

"Ewww! No! It's not Hunt! Now, leave me alone!"

"I'll leave you alone when you stop having juicy secrets. Where the hell am I going to stay tomorrow night?"

"Meredith's?"

"She's no fun... not since she and Derek broke up."

Callie shuddered at the mention of 'Meredith and Derek'; she was glad Cristina was in the living room and missed the cringe... it would have given her secret away. "I thought you liked Meredith all 'dark and twisty'?"

"Dark and twisty, yes. Morose and boring? No."

"Okay, so no Grey. What about Karev?"

Pause.

"Well, at least he's fun."

Callie smiled to herself. Yang could try to play it off, but Callie knew Alex had spent the night in their apartment a few times in the past couple of weeks. She'd seen his shoes in the living room one night, and his jacket on the couch another night.

Cris would definitely have 'fun' with Karev.

Yang chirped from the living room,"So I take it, it's not Karev either, huh?"

"Arggghhhh!"

(())

Finishing his coffee as he entered the locker room, Derek threw away the cup and shrugged his way out of his lab coat. He was tired. Not only from the long hours he'd been putting in the hosp, but from the lack of sleep he'd experienced because he'd been suffering from a severe case of Torres dreams.

Sleeping with her the second time - sober – had seemed like a good idea at the time. It had even seemed like a good idea the morning after. But the nights since then...? The nights were killing him; all alone in his bed with nothing but his hand, and thoughts of her to keep him occupied.

He felt like he was a teenager again – his cock responding continually, consistently, happily, to the thought of her skin, her touch.

Things were even getting difficult at work. The Physician Staff meeting on Monday? He'd seen her come in, nod in his direction and flash a smile at Mark, and his gut had clenched. He'd sat next to Richard during the fifteen minute meeting with a semi hard-on, trying not to look at her. Trying not to watch her eyes light up, her brilliant smile...

It was a losing fucking battle.

Knowing what being with Callie was like, was definitely a bad idea. A bad idea, leading to a losing battle.

Working open his locker, Derek froze – the noise of his coworkers milling and moving around him fading into the background.

On the top shelf of his locker stood a bottle of tequila, two shot glasses, a lemon, and a salt shaker. He reached for the small card leaning against the bottle: _630pm. My place._

No signature.

But then again, it's not like he really needed to see one.

He grinned like the kid who'd just made the winning touchdown... Callie Torres wanted him.

(())

He stepped off of the elevator with trepidation. Trepidation and fear. Trepidation and fear and anticipation.

Facts:

1 - Mark lived across the damn hall from Callie. Mark with his chiseled jaw and his carnal knowledge of Callie.  
2 - Derek was 99% certain that he was going to find Callie alone in her apartment, but, what if Yang was there? . . . .Really, _what if Yang was there?_  
3 - Derek was 99.9% certain that he was going to find Callie alone in her apartment. Alone, waiting for him. _Callie, alone, waiting for him?_ His stomach muscles clenched.

Trepidation. Fear. Anticipation.

He paused outside of her apartment before muttering a quiet 'what the fuck?' and knocking on her door.

Striking his best Cary Grant pose, he leaned against the door frame; tequila bottle hanging in one hand as he balanced the lemon and salt shaker in the shot glasses in his other hand.

It only took five seconds for his nerves to hit him again. He glanced own at the suit jacket and jeans he'd run home and thrown on. Too much?

The door to Callie's apartment swung open... _Definitely too much._ But it was okay, he had a funny feeling he wouldn't be wearing the outfit for all that long.

(())

At the knock on her apartment door, Callie grabbed the nightgowns, negligees, underwear, and stockings that littered her bed and shoved them, unceremoniously, into the closet. Pulling her hair out of the scruncci she had it up in, she shook her hair out and ran her fingers through it. She dashed into the bathroom and gave her outfit a final once over.

So, yeah, historically, boys liked girls in silk and lace, but... historically, girls liked wearing cotton. Callie had decided that since she was the one taking the leap in this situation, she was going to go with what made her feel comfortable. So she was wearing cotton. A t-strapped, red, tank top, and her red 'delicious' dance pants. Not a single 'boy sexy' thing on her... well, except for maybe - she wiggled her toes - her red pedicured tootsies.

Running down the hall, she came to a stop in front of the door, and taking another deep breath, she jerked at the knob, swinging the heavy door open.

"Hi." _Damn he's sexy._

"Hi." _I'm definitely overdressed, but..._

_I should have worn the red silk thingy!_

"You look... great." He dragged his eyes from her hips, up to her breasts – full and free beneath her tank top, up to her lips – full and tempting.

_Maybe the 'girl sexy' outfit was an okay move._

"You're not looking too bad yourself Dr. Shepherd," she stepped to the side, "Wanna come in?"

"Definite yes."

Her smile widened as she closed the door and leaned against it. "Definitely?"

He put the shot glasses and tequila on the living room coffee table then turned back to face her. "You're making that door look sexy." He groaned inwardly after he said the words. _Not exactly Cary Grant... but... well... damnit, it was true._

Callie bit her bottom lip before teasingly stepping away from the door, "I can leave you two alone if you'd like?"

"No. No. I've recently given up on doors... it never seems to work out."

Callie laughed, husky and low; Derek Shepherd was a dork. An adorable dork. A sexy, adorable, dork.

She moved until she was standing just a few feet away from him. Glancing past him at the tequila, she observed, "I see you got my gifts?"

"Mmm hmmm." he closed the distance between them. "I thought, maybe, we could share them."

"That's so sweet of you! Sharing and all."

"I'm a sweet man."

"A sexy, sweet, man." Her eyes were at his neck.

 _He had a funny feeling she wanted to nibble at him... and he found that he didn't really mind the idea._ "I was about to say the same thing about you."

Callie raised a brow.

"The sweet and sexy part, not the 'man' part." He put his hands on her hips. "You're definitely all woman."

She grinned and moved firmly into his space, letting her hands travel up his forearms, to his biceps, and finally up to his shoulders. "You noticed?"

"Noticed. Recorded... Had dreams about it." his fingers kneaded into the flesh of her hips.

"So, I take it, you don't really need any alcohol to... help you through this?"

"What alcohol?"

"Oooh, you just earned some points, Dr. Shepherd."

"Points?"

"Points." She lowered her hands to his and slowly began to lead him down the hall to the bedrooms. "Points that can be redeemed for extra, special, treatment."

"Special treatment sounds... good." His jeans were now spectacularly uncomfortable.

Callie stopped before her open bedroom door and separating her hands from his she let them lay on his chest. "Want some special treatment ...Derek?"

He pressed against her with a smirk, "Yes, please."

"Politeness will get you everywhere..." she pulled at his lapel, and he followed her into the room. Followed the sway of her hips, and the push pull of her hands on his jacket.

When they reached the bed, Callie stuck her thumbs in the waistband of her pants and began to wiggle out of them. As she took off the pants, she kept her eyes on Derek's pretty blues. His turned on, pretty blues.

Finally standing in front of him in nothing more than boy shorts and a tank top, Callie's nerves kicked in... and she began to babble... just a bit. "I made dinner... for... it's in the oven... staying warm. If you want to... I mean we could," she gestured at the bed, "after? I mean I could feed you... first. And then..." _So fucking shutting up now!_

He raised a brow. _She was babbling... and she'd cooked for him... for them._ He lifted a hand to the back of her neck and pulled her closer. "Dessert first."

He woke up a few hours later to find Callie navigating her way beneath the bed covers.

"Cal?"

She stopped moving and then he heard a muffled curse before she started wiggling lower in the bed again. "Callie, what are you...?'

Her tongue touched the tip of his flaccid cock and he felt electricity shoot through his system.

Her tongue darted out again, this time flattening and circling the head.

"Callie?" He raised his hand to touch the sheet covered lump that was Callie's head, but before he touched her, she swallowed him whole. Her mouth, warm, and wet, engulfing his cock, and turning his brain off. "Jeeeezzzuuusssss!"

Callie smiled around his length, the flat of her tongue dragging along the side of his cock as she lifted her head up. Flicking her tongue along the tip of his cock, she opened her mouth again, taking him in until he hit the back of her throat.

As she lifted her head again, she let her hand brush against the warm heaviness of his balls; she heard him groan and she smiled again.

Callie set up a rhythm; surrounding him with her mouth for a short count then lifting her head and swirling her tongue around the underside of the head of his cock. She gave a soft hum of pleasure when she felt him moving his hips beneath her ministrations. The hum made him shift again and Callie could feel her belly clinch with heat; turning him on... working him up made her feel... well, it made her _feel._ Everywhere.

Derek's hand did, eventually, find its way to the top of Callie's head but it was an 'unaware' sort of touch; his body couldn't decide which sensation it wanted more... _Did he want to be surrounded by her slick, warm mouth, or did he want to be feel the stir of energy that shot through him when she teased the head of his cock?_

He didn't have long to think about it, Callie was talented. Talented as a doctor, and definitely talented as a … well...

He felt his balls tightening and he let out a hoarse whisper, "Callie. Callie ... I'm going to... fuck... I'm going to..." His next sound was little more than a grunt. A grunt and a moan of nerve shattered pleasure.

Callie swallowed as Derek released; her thighs slick and slippery with her own desire.

When Derek finally finished cumming, Callie licked her lips and edged her way, up and out, from beneath the bed covers. With a grin, a salty, slightly naughty grin, she planted a kiss on his lips. "How'd you like your special treatment?"

He gasped and puffed out, "When I get my energy back, you're going to have to tell me how can I earn more points."

(())

It was early morning and Callie was feeling good. But she'd noticed, except for the blinding hangover of the first night she'd spent with Derek, she always felt good when she woke up in his arms.

And yeah, she was in his arms. His chest against her back, her head on his shoulder, one of his arms around her waist, the other on her chest.

"Awake?" Derek's voice was low.

"Mmm hmm."

"So," he traced his fingers along her chest, "this... this tequila invitation thing? Are we...? Are you thinking...? Can we...?" _And what the hell? Am I channeling a teenage girl here or what?_ He took a shallow breath, "Do I need to bring you tequila every night in order to end up in your bed?"

Callie lifted her hand to his, and as he trailed an unconscious pattern along her skin of her chest, she traced one along the skin of his hand.

"Callie?"

"It feels good... being with you. I mean, not being with you... although, yeah, right, that feels good... really good." She rolled her eyes when she heard him chuckle behind her. "But then we go our separate ways and you remember why you shouldn't be with me, and I remember why I shouldn't be with you."

"And what were those reasons again?"

Callie held up her hands and ticked off the reasons on her fingers, "Meredith, Mark, Seattle Grace, your Shepherdness, my Torresness..., want me to go on?"

Derek pulled Callie closer and moved his hands to hers, locking their fingers together. "Oh, yeah... those reasons." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "Meredith: Done. Over with. Not a consideration. Mark: Had his chance. Didn't take it. Not a consideration for me." Derek peered at Callie's profile waiting for her to say something. He cleared his throat. "I mean, I know Mark has a reputation, I've seen the women coming... and uh coming back for more; I guess if you and he weren't quite done y-"

Callie turned her head slightly. "We're done. We're friends." She anticipated his next question. "Friends without benefits." She turned her body so that her chest was flush with his; and she nuzzled her lips against his neck. "And in case you haven't noticed, **you** kinda have me... coming back for more."

Derek grinned, a grin Callie didn't see. "Oh, yeah... that's right." He let his hand rest on her hip. "Umm, back to that list of reasons. Seattle Grace: if they can handle you and Sloan jumping in and out of on call rooms, and Meredith and me doing whatever the hell it was we were doing... they can handle you... and me."

"Yeah, but -"

"No buts."

"But -"

Derek lifted his hand to Callie's chin, tilted her head up and kissed her 'quiet'.

"No buts."

She smiled lazily, satisfiedly, "No buts."

"You're going to have to help me with the whole Shepherdness, Torresness part of the list. Not certain I get those."

Callie dove in. "You're Shepherd; all backwoods, nature boy. Good guy. Picket fences. Straight arrow. I'm Torres. Give me Miami music, conveniences of a full size home vs a freakin tin can. I'm not known for being the good girl, although, since we're on the topic, I AM a good person! And sometimes I want a picket fence, sometimes I don't. I'm not straight... no pun intended. I'm curvy and colourful, and you like skinny Grey women." Callie paused for a breath. "I'm done."

Derek flipped them over so that he was laying on top of Callie, looking down at her. "I like Miami music. And I want to have a full size home – with the right woman. You **are** a good girl." He dropped a kiss to her lips. "And thank God, you're a little bit of a naughty girl too. And I don't need a picket fence." He grinned, "I could handle cedar plank fence, even a chain link fence." He dipped in for a kiss again. "And, are you positive I don't like curvy colourful women, cuz, from where I'm sitting? It looks a lot like I have a thing for curvy colourful women. Or, at least, one in particular."

Callie stared up at Derek. He was beautiful. Guy-beautiful. And he was sweet. She lifted her hand to his jaw. "Those are some pretty good arguments you've made there. Do you think we can remember all of those items when you're not seducing me with your blue eyes and your adorable nose?"

He chuckled then kissed the tip of her nose. "Oh, yeah, this is going to work. If you think my nose is cute? This is definitely going to work."

(())

_Five years later._

There was a picket fence; although she refused to allow him to paint it white.

And there was a giant, modern conveniences filled home; with a giant wrap around porch.

And there was a lot of music.

And a lot of laughter.

And two and a half kids. One beautiful dark haired, dark eyed boy and one beautiful dark haired, dark eyed girl.

She had daddy's smile and daddy's heart; he had mommy's smile and had her wrapped around his finger.

The 'half' of the 'two and a half'?... Callie had a surprise for Derek.


End file.
